Orange and Navy (The Many Colours of Life and Death AU)

Chapter Twenty-Five

WARNING: This chapter contains suicide and a lot of graphic descriptions of death/gore, proceed with caution :)

The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was in the air when it happened. He was explaining what was going on to the Ottoman Empire, who was in the village.

Then everything exploded in a series. Fire and shards of wood flew upwards. PLC felt his skin flare up in pain, and he flew further upwards to avoid getting burnt to a crisp. The feathers on the edges of his wings shrivelled up, and he beat them furiously so that they wouldn't catch on fire.

Screams erupted from the blast, before cutting off abruptly.

It was over as soon as it began. A multitude of fires scattered around the wreck. A sob escaped his lips, and he collapsed to the ground into a run. He made his way to the top of his house, which was now a sad pile of burning wood on the ground. He ignored the flames and searched for his mothers.

He found their charred bodies intertwined in their last hug. It was clear that they were dead.

PLC let out a wail of despair and agony. He flapped away from the flames, only to collapse to the ground moments later on the hot stone floor of the streets. It couldn't be gone. They couldn't be gone.

Get up, a voice urged in his head. He wasn't done. He was going to make whoever was responsible for this pay. But first, he had to find survivors.

"Is anyone out there?" he called, his voice weak and wobbly.

"Help..." another country croaked.

PLC moved some pieces of wood and gasped when he saw the bodies. The Kingdom of Ireland lay underneath a stone table. Next to him were the assumed bodies of UKGBI, the British Empire and Britain.

"Help me. Please," Ireland choked out, blood spilling from his lips. PLC climbed down and dragged him out before screaming at the sight.

He was in half. His legs were gone. His golden wings were tattered and torn. Guts hung from the burnt flesh of his torso. He shouldn't be alive. PLC barely managed to avoid throwing up. Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Ireland looked down at himself and sighed in defeat.

"How are you not..." PLC trailed off as he noticed his eyes go lifeless. His head lolled to the side.

The winged country moved on.

PLC heard a gurgling sound and whirled around to find an unknown country smiling at him. Shards of wood and burns covered their body. Their eyes were gone, melted from the sockets. Their neck hung on from a few threads. Yet they were still limping forward.

"How the fuck?!" PLC sputtered.

The country waved in response, a few of their fingers falling off in the process, reduced to mere ashes.

Are they immortal or something? Wait, isn't the Indus River Valley Civilisation immortal? PLC pondered.

"Are you IRVC?" he asked. The supposed-to-be-dead country gave a thumbs up. "That explains it. How painful is that?" IRVC gave a thumbs down.

PLC hesitated. "Um, is it okay if I leave you here? I need to look for survivors who are in danger of dying," he said. The charred country gave another thumbs up, before grabbing his head and putting it back on his neck. The flesh melded together. At least he had super healing.

PLC took flight and scanned the battlefield from the air. There were a few times he thought he saw movement, but it turned out to be shifting wood or crackling flames.

He felt the weight of the event bare down on him. Almost everyone was gone. They'd all moved to the village in order to be close if anything bad happened. PLC didn't know who was left.